Acolyte Adventures
by Valoofle
Summary: Wanda and Pietro join the Acolytes. Eventual JONDA. A story about secrets, lies, loyalty, and trust.
1. A Spider called Sue

_Author's Note: Welcome to my first posted story. This first chapter is a bit off color but I feel relatively confident that someone out there will like it. I promise the chapters to come won't be as crazy and out there. Well, sort of. Please read and review and tell me if it's going okay. _

_--Disclaimer: I wish I owned everything.--_

**Chapter 1: The Spider Called Sue**

It was about 4 am on a Thursday morning when Pietro Maximoff awoke and decided that the kitchen desperately needed to be cleaned, and he was the only one with enough determination to do it. There were filthy plates, cups and utensils strewn all around the sink, some so old that crust was beginning to form in the corners, taking a life of its own. This was all because of Freddy and Todd's eating contest the night prior. Poor Todd hadn't even stood a chance, bless his soul… The table and refrigerator were knocked on their sides, two of the chairs were broken in half, and one was missing in action.

It was all very depressing to look at, and Pietro started working right away, after he found his apron, his gloves, and bandana to tie around his head to protect his lovely hair. And of course, those who had created the mess in the first place paid no mind to Pietro's cleaning frenzy, as they were used to this sort of thing happening with him. It was what happened when one lived with an obsessive compulsive perfectionist who lived five times faster than any ordinary being.

"Man, I'm starving," Freddy declared, as his stomach preceded him in the doorway. "What have we got to eat in here?"

"There's nothing," Pietro snapped, tapping his foot in irritation. "Except dirt and garbage."

"Is the take out place open this early?" he asked, opening the cabinets, seeming slightly panic-stricken.

"Are you crazy?" Pietro exclaimed, turning to face him. "You ate every article of food in this house last night. That was supposed to last us for at least a week!"

"Look, I'm sorry," Freddy said good-naturedly. "I'm a big guy and I need my calories. I'll just go out for pizza or something. I'll get you some too."

"There are eukaryotic cells growing on this plate here!" Pietro yelled hysterically, as Freddy exited the kitchen. A few moments later, Todd hopped in, at a slower pace than usual. He glanced at Pietro, and then at what was left of the kitchen. And then, he hopped away. Pietro knew that he had probably gone with Freddy wherever he had gone. Freddy and Todd were nearly inseparable, like conjoined twins, like best friends. They were also the only ones aside from him who woke up at the crack of dawn, or could create such an unholy mess.

The mess in the kitchen would have taken any mere mortal over four hours to clean, but it took Pietro about fifteen minutes to finish it all. "I must be awesome or something," he said to himself, as he flopped onto the couch in the living room and grabbed the remote.

Wanda Maximoff was dreaming about a peaceful park, with little birdies and a picnic. Once, when she and Pietro were both very little, their father had taken them to Cherrystone Park, and they had sat under a big tree and had a picnic. And then a birdie in the big tree had dropped a poopy bomb onto Pietro's light hair, and he was very, very upset, and she had helped him dunk his head in the little stream nearby, and he had burst into tears because he was getting even more dirty… and then the doctor came toward her, with an injection in his hand, ready to drug her away to Never, Never Land, where she would never, never wake up.

Wanda sat up in bed, clutching her blanket to her chest to try and stop her heart from hammering so loudly in there. The boys would hear, if it didn't shut up soon. Or maybe not.

She slowly climbed out of bed, holding the blanket around her shoulders, even though it was mid-July and anything but cold outside. Crazy dreams… hers always started off sweet, and then turned into frightening images of syringes and small, dark rooms filled with fear and hate. They made no sense whatsoever.

She heard the shower turn on, and felt a frown cross her face as she proceeded to get very angry with whoever was showering, since out of the only three bathrooms in the entire Brotherhood house, it was the only one working. Fred had stopped up one of the others, and Pietro had stuffed a disgusting pair of Todd's socks down the other one's pipes. She was still amazed that he had the audacity to touch such things, but it was quite agitating that the toilet would no longer function. It was looking like they'd have to hire someone to fix it, and _that_ was always an adventure.

Dropping her blanket to the ground, she threw open her bedroom door and stomped across the hallway to the bathroom. And she knew exactly who it was.

"Pietro," she said, in exasperation. "I have to use the bathroom."

"Well, I'm using it," he said stubbornly. "I'm taking a shower. Hold on."

"I don't feel like playing your little games, Pietro," she snapped. "Get out; I'll only be a moment."

"I'm trying to enjoy a friggin shower after cleaning all morning," Pietro yelled. "Now, go away!"

"_Pietro!!!_" she bellowed, and something made of glass exploded downstairs, followed by a shriek from Todd. "I have to go the bathroom, _now_!!"

"Damn, do you guys get PMS at the same time or something?" Lance asked, as he exited his room to go down the stairs.

"You stay out of this!" Wanda shouted, rounding on him. "Pietro, I'm giving you one last warning—"

There was a little snort of a laugh, muffled by the noises of the shower. "I can't hear you!" Pietro said, almost taunting her. Well, this was too much, especially so relatively early in the morning.

Wanda pressed her hand to the door, and her fingertips glowed bright blue. She smirked as she heard Pietro shriek.

"Cold!" he shouted. He seemed to compose himself. "You think your little temperature changes will make me come out faster? If anything, I'll have to take longer now!"

He must have thought this was all a joke. Wanda pounded the door with her fist again, wishing just a little that she was punching him and not the door. Why was he being this way? "I'm going to hex the door down," she warned. "This is not a joke."

Hearing him snort again, she pressed her hand harder to the door, changing the water from freezing ice particles to scalding, boiling, almost fire, water.

Pietro howled, and she heard a thump, like he had fallen down.

"I'm trying to take a shower," Pietro said, sounding truly aggravated now. "Why don't you have a little _patience_?"

This was the straw that broke the camel's back.

"_Pietro!!" _Wanda violently kicked at the door, and it flew open like nothing, but then it slammed back shut, with Pietro pressing his wet back against it, keeping it shut. "You have three seconds before I blow this door off its hinges," she said viciously. "With _you_ along with it."

"Well_, I'm_ not paying for it this time," Pietro snapped.

"What exactly is going on up here?" Lance asked, sorting through a little stack of envelopes in his hand. "Do the other bathrooms not work again?"

"I'll tell Lance your middle name," Wanda threatened, ignoring Lance's question completely. "I swear I will, if you don't get your ass out this instant."

"Wanda!" Pietro exclaimed. "No! I'll tell yours!"

"What is it?" Lance asked, seeming quite entertained by the whole situation.

Suddenly, there was a high-pitched shriek from within the bathroom. The door burst open, and Pietro dashed out, almost bowling Wanda over. He scurried behind her, grabbing her shoulders and ducking behind her, as if she was a shield.

"I oughta kill you," Wanda threatened, trying to look at him, hiding behind her. "What's your problem, Pi—oh come on." She frowned at the hand towel that wasn't really covering him, a bit embarrassed for his sake. "Couldn't you dress yourself before you—"

"Sp…" he pointed to an invisible spot in front of her. "Spi… spider…"

"Spider?" Wanda repeated, interested, squinting down at the spot he was pointing at. A spider, probably about the size of her thumbnail, scurried across the floor, through Wanda's legs and in Pietro's general direction. Since when had Pietro been afraid of spiders? Pietro shrieked again, darting down the stairs in a panic. Wanda could hear Todd and Fred downstairs, laughing at Pietro's naked frenzy.

Smirking slightly, Wanda followed Pietro's trail, forgetting all about her bladder's petty needs.

"Get it, get it, get it!" Pietro cried, frantic, as the unusually quick little spider cornered him in the living room, right beside the stairs.

Fred raised his eyebrows at the tiny insect. "Is _that_ what you're afraid of? A little spider?"

"Easy for _you_ to say," Pietro said uneasily. "You're _huge._"

"Yo' I'll get it!" Todd offered, jumping up eagerly, his slimy tongue flapping out of his mouth.

"No," Fred said, seizing Todd by the back of his shirt and holding him suspended in midair. "_I_ wanna keep him. I'll call him Sue, and we can dress him up like a—"

"Guys…" Pietro whimpered, his two hands cupped around his crotch for decency. "Cut it out and help me already!"

BLAM!!!

Wanda's heel smashed against the spider's body, abruptly ending its meager life. She raised her foot, frowning at the green spider guts smeared across the sole of her sock.

"Ugh…" she wrinkled her nose up with disgust, and Pietro sighed with relief.

"_SUE!!!!"_ Fred exclaimed mournfully, dropping Toad unceremoniously to the floor and falling to his knees in grief, shaking the foundations of the house more than Lance ever could.

Wanda rolled her eyes, and then looked over to her brother, still standing against the wall, covering himself. He smiled weakly.

"You're the best sister _ever_," he said, to offer his apologies, his pale face bright pink from the situation.

"Don't I know it," Wanda smirked, and she poked him sharply in the chest. "Now get dressed, dammit. You don't want to scar any innocent children around here."

"Yes, ma'am I know it," he said, and saluted her, then disappeared with a whoosh of wind. Wanda sighed, and then went into the bathroom.

-----------

The day wore on. Things were almost beginning to seem normal again, when Wanda heard voices coming from Pietro's room as she passed. Mean voices.

She pressed her ear to the door, just as she had been taught not to do, and she listened.

"I refuse to do it," said Pietro. "And if you guys don't leave soon, I'll tell him about _your_ movies, Remy, and Johnny's books."

There was a gasp. "I never did anything to you!" cried a voice with a thick accent. "Why do you _always _have to—"

"We're just doing business, Pietro," interrupted a lower voice. "There's no need to bring anyone's personal lives into anything. We've done our job, haven't we? We've told you that if you don't allow her to go, then some bad things are going to happen to the both of you. And that's that."

"Why can't he just leave us alone?" Pietro asked quietly.

"Well, he doesn't want _you_," said the low voice. "He only wants her, and I have a feeling, he won't rest till he gets her. He knows how great her powers are…"

"Well, I'm pretty great, too—" Pietro complained, but the man laughed.

"I regret to inform you that he also told me to give you this," said the low voice, and Wanda heard something thump, and Pietro shout in pain. There were more thumps and scratches, and Wanda knew whoever these people were, they were beating up her brother.

She knocked the door in with her elbow, and stared up into the eyes of two strange men. One was tall, with dark hair and sunglasses. He had a long trench coat, and one fist was raised up in the air, like he had just punched something. Something like Pietro.

Then, there was a man standing by Pietro's open window, not even paying attention to anything. He had bright orangey red hair that was spiked up at odd angles, and he was flipping a lighter open and shut and open and shut with his thumb.

"Hey, get out of here!" Wanda exclaimed, and the glass in Pietro's window shattered. The red-headed man beside it cried out in surprise, and Wanda was sure one or two glass shards had nicked him. And she was glad.

"Let's go," said the dark haired, low voiced man, turning to his red headed companion. The red headed, lighter flipping guy said nothing, but followed him out. And they were gone.

"You okay, Pietro?" Wanda asked, biting her lip as she noticed that he was getting a black eye.

"I'm fine," he said, getting to his feet.

"Who were those men?" Wanda pressed. "Do you know them?"

"I've never seen them before," said Pietro, brushing past her on his way out of the room. "They must've been thieves or something."

"What were they talking about? They sounded like they knew you," Wanda said, but Pietro shook his head. He disappeared down the staircase, yelling:

"I've never even seen them!"

And Wanda stared out his broken window, noticing with a start the puddle of blood beside it.

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_Well. I feel all shaky and giddy now. I've started publication of my first little story! Now just so you all know, this is going to eventually be a serious JONDA. Hoo-hah! Now please review! I need all the help I can get. Yeah… REVIEW!!!_


	2. Rubble

_Author's Note: I love everyone who reviewed!! I learned that getting reviews is like taking drugs—I must have more!! (Not that I know what taking drugs is like) Also, I learned that 5 pages on Microsoft word really isn't that long on so I decided to merge things a little more to try to get the most out of a chapter._

_Disclaimer: I wish I owned everything!! Sort of…_

_---------------_

**Chapter 2: Rubble**

In spite of the preventive measures Wanda and the other boys had set up, Pietro had—yet again—managed to break the air conditioning system, just like he did every summer in his miserable attempts to make it more efficient.

"You guys are so unfair! It's not my fault!" Pietro protested indignantly, as the boys shut him out of Lance's room, the only room that could afford a decent rotating fan. They were afraid he might break that one as well, which wasn't an unfounded concern. Wanda had voluntarily left the room since she had no desire to be in a cramped room with three sweaty boys—but Pietro was so quickly affected by things that the heat usually made him more high strung and jittery, and the cool air really would have helped calm him and his heart rate.

Wanda sat alone in her bedroom with a store-bought handheld fan in her left hand and a National Geographic magazine spread out on her bed. She turned a page about the pandas in the zoo, disinterested.

There was a soft knock at her door.

"Yeah?" she called, glancing at the digital clock on her bedside table. It was a few minutes past midnight.

"Wanda…" Pietro sighed, opening her door. "I am so… _so_ hot. I think I'm dying."

"You shouldn't have broken the AC," she said with a shrug.

His lower lip quivered. "Can I stay here for awhile? I don't feel well, and the boys won't let me in the room."

Wanda took a long look at him. His hair was sweaty and disheveled, his face had little splotches of pink from the heat, and his body looked awfully scrawny, even for him and his lanky build. She felt a teeny, tiny prickle of concern for him.

"Come here," she said, pushing her magazines aside. "Let me check your pulse."

He ambled over, his breathing ragged and laborious. She took his hand and pressed her fingers against his thin, pale wrist. There was a pause while she tried to count the beats. Wanda was the only one at the Brotherhood who knew how to take Pietro's pulse. Normal for Pietro was about five beats per second, but today, his heartbeat was going so fast, it felt like it was vibrating in his skinny body.

"Here." She handed the handheld fan to him. "Breathe a little slower and relax."

He smiled weakly. "Thanks. Man, I hate the summertime."

"I know," Wanda said, trying and failing to sound soothing. "Now shut up. Keep your energy for later." She gestured for him to sit on her bed where she had just been sitting, and she went to her window. He obeyed, and she faced away from him, toward the endlessly dark sky. Pietro had never come to her for help before. She couldn't even remember him doing it in their childhood, but then again, Wanda had very blurry memories of her life before the Brotherhood. She couldn't even remember her mother, and Pietro claimed he could remember her very well. They didn't even have pictures. "How do you feel, Pietro?" she asked, supposing he was almost completely back to normal, if not already.

"A lot better," he said, running his fingers through his hair to comb it back. "It's really hot outside."

"That tends to happen during summer," Wanda said sarcastically, pressing her fingertips to the cool glass of the window, and then turning back to him, feeling awkward with him sitting here in her bedroom, on her bed. He had never been in here, uninjured, for so long before.

He seemed to pick up on her feelings almost instantly. "I like your room," he said, patting the soft bedcovers. "It's very… chaotic."

Wanda laughed, kicking aside a lump of clothes on the floor. It wasn't that she was unclean; she was just messy. It was one of their differences. Pietro was very organized and clean, mostly because he had time to be that way. "You can stay here until you feel a little better," she offered.

"Thanks." Pietro smiled gratefully at her, and predictably began to pick at stray strands of lint on her bed sheets.

"Leave that alone." Wanda tried to keep from snorting at how disturbed he seemed by her mess.

"I can't help it," he said, pursing his lips. "It's just so _irritating…_"

Wanda sighed, then sat at the foot of her bed, noticing lights flashing outside, complete with a distant crackling sound. Fireworks. Who in their right mind would be shooting off fireworks at midnight?

Pietro turned, seeming more agitated because of his heat exhaustion and the stray piece of string on her bedcovers. "The fourth of July was two weeks ago," he said stubbornly, his face a bit less flushed since he had gotten somewhat cooler. "What kinda lousy fireworks are those? They're not even colorful."

"I know," Wanda said, though she hadn't quite noticed much about them. She took his hand and pressing her fingers to the inside of his wrist. "You're still a little too fast—"

"Well, this thing doesn't go any faster," Pietro roughly shook the handheld fan in frustration.

"Don't shake it," Wanda snatched it from his hand. "I don't want you to break this too_. I_ can make it faster. Just sit."

Pietro sighed exasperatedly, and folded his arms across his chest. She held the fan close to his neck area, and he leaned his head to the side to avoid it. He raised his hand to push it away, just a little, but as he began to reach for it, she warned, "Don't touch it or you'll hurt yourself."

He nodded compliantly, and watched her hand holding it near him, keeping him cool, but also having threatening his very existence if he did wrong. If she wanted to, she could drive the speeding fan into his head and kill him with no reason. But she wouldn't. Right?

"So, Pietro, what did those guys want from you this morning?" she asked. "You didn't do anything wrong, did you?"

"No," he said defensively. "They just popped out of nowhere and started beating me up! I was just trying to get the Windex for my windows, and they came out of the sky, rearing for a fight!"

"Oh, really?" she asked. "You didn't provoke them or anything?"

"I don't know!" Pietro shrugged, seeming totally guilty. "At least I don't think I did."

"Did those men work for father?" Wanda inclined her head, pulling the hand held fan back toward herself to get some air; it felt as if it was getting hotter and hotter in the room the longer she stayed in here.

"Uhh, yeah, I think," he said slowly, trying to sound uncertain. Noticing Wanda's skeptical looks, he hastily confessed, "Yeah, I knew them. They were just trying to get me to talk to them so they could get on good graces with father, but I didn't _want _to talk to them, and it pissed 'em off, so they tried to beat me up, but then you came and saved the day."

"Good thing _I _was here," Wanda said, slightly sarcastic. Pietro shrugged again, and didn't say anything. She stared at him knowingly for a long moment. "If you hadn't—"

Suddenly, outside of Wanda's bedroom door, there was a loud thump, and a yelp that sounded like a dog being sat on. There were thumps and scratchy sounds, and someone shouting.

"What is that?" Wanda asked as Pietro strode to the door.

"Yeowch!!!" he howled, yanking his hand away from the knob. "What the hell?!"

"What is it?" Wanda asked anxiously, setting the hand held fan down on her bed.

"It's _scalding_ hot!" Pietro shouted, clutching his hand, staring at the nasty blister that had already began to form.

A bit uneasy, Wanda approached the door, feeling a strange pulse of heat radiate from it. She raised her hands in front of her, conjuring power, expecting the unexpected as she blew the door off of its hinges, into a furnace behind it. The door did not concern her—they had many spare doors in the basement—what was concerning was the huge fire that had taken over the house.

The light was blinding, and the heat was unbearable. Wanda felt Pietro gasped beside her, a cloud of thick black smoke overpowering the two of them. Wanda ducked down, and Pietro began to cough like an asthmatic fifty year old.

"_Lance!!"_ he shouted. "_Toad!!!"_ he coughed. "_Freddy!!"_

"Pietro!" Wanda hissed, grabbing him by the side of his shorts. He bent down beside her, and without a word, he scooped her up into his arms. She felt a rush of heat combined with a blur of color and sound, and soon she was outside, somehow, in front of their burning, disintegrating house.

She stumbled, shocked at her sudden loneliness.

"_Pietro!!!_" Wanda cried, searching her surroundings frantically. The night echoed quietly around her with the faint songs of crickets. "Pietro!" Wanda stumbled again, faintly dizzy. "Pietro, _come back!! Where are you?!"_

There was no response; even the crickets were silent as their house began to collapse. She steadied herself and raised both her hands up to the heavens, using every particle in her body to stop the flames. It was all about control. Control… control…

It took a long moment, one of the longest moments of Wanda's life, for the flames of the house to be put out. It felt as if there was a force resisting her, trying to keep her from setting the flames out, but she knew that it was all in her head. Her brother, her only brother might be trapped in a burning building and dying, and he had saved her, not even caring that he could have a heat stroke or a heart attack.

There was only rubble. The house was gone, and so was the light the flames had produced. It was all darkness and shadows and fear. It was like being in a small room in the middle of the night, with her arms tied around herself, and there was nothing she could ever do to make it okay. All she could do was wait and wait and wait... Wanda shook her head. This was why she couldn't watch scary movies. They got in her head and made her think crazy things that could never happen.

"Pietro…?" Wanda asked, cautiously approaching the door… the door that was no longer a door; it was more of a frame burned black with a pile of ashes and rubble at the floor. There was nothing. The roof was gone… the stairs were virtually non-existent. How long had this fire been raging before she and Pietro had noticed? What if they had _never _noticed? Would they have fallen through the floor while they were talking, and would they have survived? Had Pietro even survived?—she didn't even know where he was right now…

Turning a corner, she saw a gigantic mound, burned black and red; a human body… dead. Was it really dead? Maybe it was just pretending. It could not be dead. Terribly, horribly dead. Just hours ago, Fred had been alive, naming a spider, watching TV, kicking Pietro out of the only room with a fan, hogging up the carpet…

Beside Fred lay Toad, crumpled into the fetal position. They had fallen through the floor upstairs as it had burned up beneath them. Toad, who called her "Snookums" and other repulsive, disgusting names, but whose only crime was being hideous and smelling like sewage…

A few paces away from Fred and Toad was Lance, whose complete upper half was covered with bits of ceiling and debris. Lance, who was their leader, who had common sense sometimes, who controlled the remote through his rages…

They could not be gone. It just didn't make sense. How could people who had just been existing suddenly be dead? Maybe they were just in a coma. A deep, deep coma, but if they got a doctor, then they would be okay, and they would not be dead at all. They were all gone… how could it be? How could they have not escaped? Even if the fire had started near them, they would have been able to get out, even if the house was destroyed like this. They weren't _that _stupid. They would have known when to go and forget about their belongings.

Swallowing a thick lump in her throat, Wanda slowly made her way to the dining area, afraid of what she might see. There was a dark shape covering its face in there, his head bowed, his two dirty, dirty hands hiding his eyes. He was leaning against the ashes of what used to be the dining table and he was speaking words so quickly that she could not understand anything of it. He was okay. He was shaky and probably bruised and battered from what he had tried to do when he went back into the house, just like Smokey the Bear said not to. But he was alive. The relief she felt at seeing her brother, injured but alive, was overwhelming. He was pacing back and forth and talking to himself, and covering his eyes so he would not see the destruction around him.

"Pietro…" she whispered, afraid that if she spoke too loudly then something really bad would happen, something worse than all this. She came close to him, praying he was alright and not even feeling the wet in her eyes.

He rushed over to her, and hugged her in the tightest embrace she had ever felt before. Her lungs strained and her ribs were afraid they would break, but they made it through. Thank the lord, thank Buddha, thank every deity known to mankind, thank goodness he was alive and mostly uninjured… She patted him on his back, feeling slightly awkward. His body was very, very hot, radiating from the heat exhaustion, the stress, the trauma…

"I wasn't quick enough…" he sighed, his voice muffled as he bit his bottom lip . "When I got there… the floor collapsed, and… they were already dead… that's all there is to it, I guess… they're really dead, Wanda… they're dead."

He slowly released her, but she didn't scoot miles away. He mumbled to himself, "Oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god..." but it was very quiet, and she barely heard him. Wanda stood beside Pietro for what seemed like hours or days, and they remained nearly silent together, two people who should have been mourning, but were staring out into nothing, so close, but so far away. It had to have been eternities in silence.

A tiny gust of wind blew past them, and Wanda felt her brother shiver beside her. They had no house. They had no friends with whom they could stay. They had no extra pairs of clothes they could wear. They had no food or drink. They had no money at all. Wanda suddenly realized that they were homeless. They had nothing, nothing but the clothes on their backs.

Wanda lightly touched his elbow, to try to get his attention, feeling guilty because she had been pleased that he was alive. How dare she be happy when the others had not been as fortunate as they?

Suddenly, Pietro jerked, like he had just realized something very, very surprising. "I have to get out of here," he announced, looking at her with wide eyes. She should understand. "I have to; I can't stay here I've gotta go now or else I'm gonna lose it I need to get out of here now—"

Wanda snatched his wrist in an iron grasp. "I don't think so. You're not running away, Pietro."

"I have to!" he shouted frantically against the mild breeze. "Don't you understand? This is my fault!"

She stared at him, and noticed how dirty he looked. If he could have seen himself, he would have died of horror. "Don't be stupid," she said calmly. "You didn't _start _the fire, did you? No, so just chill out for a minute."

"All right," Pietro said, closing his eyes for a brief moment. "But it _is_ my fault. If I hadn't come to your room, then maybe when the fire started, I would have been able to rush everyone to safety. Or maybe, I could have stopped it before it became too serious. Or maybe, through some crazy twist of fate, it would have never happened, and you could still be reading your boring little magazine in peace!"

"Or maybe you'd be dead," Wanda looked at him intently.

Pietro scowled, and he bit his bottom lip hard, teeth sinking slowly through the skin. Wanda watched, her eyes wide with the very morbid prospect of seeing her brother chew through his own lip.

"You are an idiot," she said, riveted.

Pietro didn't seem to notice her, and just stared out at the charred wreckage that once was the kitchen.

"I cleaned that whole area this morning," he said quietly. "Just this morning. It took me fifteen whole minutes."

Wanda did not release his wrist, because if she did, she might somehow lose him, her only brother in the entire universe, forever.

He closed his eyes again, gathering himself together. "They're never gonna mess up the kitchen again…"

Blood from his lip trickled down his chin. His hand suddenly patted the back of her upper arm, making sure she was still there. Still breathing. Still alive. Wanda held her breath, remembering a foggy remnant of a memory, the park and the bird poo in his hair. It almost didn't seem real.

Pietro slowly looked up at her, his eyes shining. "What time is it?" he asked quietly.

"Umm," Wanda glanced at the cheap plastic watch that Todd had given her for her birthday last month. She hadn't wanted to hurt his feelings, especially since he had used his last five dollars on it. Now it didn't matter anymore, did it? "It's 12:20."

"12:20," Pietro repeated, working his jaw to the side. "It seems like forever. Wanda, we have to find a place to stay."

"I know," Wanda sighed, looking out at the wreckage of the Brotherhood building. "You know _I_ don't know anybody." She inclined her head. "What about that Professor Xavier guy? Isn't he a nice guy? Wouldn't he let us in?"

"No." Pietro shook his head. "Magneto hates him. And so do I, because he told me I 'resemble my father.' Ugh, I can't stand that."

"What about father?" She nudged a pebble on the ground with her toe. "Don't you know where he is?"

Pietro frowned. "I don't think we should go over there…"

"Are you crazy?" she snapped. "Our friends have died and we're homeless, but you don't want to go ask our own father for help or shelter till we can find somewhere else? Hasn't he always been there for us?"

Pietro glared at her. "I suppose," he said, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. "I just don't really want to be an Acolyte."

"We don't have to."

"Oh, yes we do." He folded his arms across his chest. "Nobody can live at Magneto's secret base unless they are one of his Acolytes and have been put through an initiation test and proven their loyalty. Even if you prove your loyalty, there's no guarantee you're in. You have to be able to do incredible things with your powers. Just being a loyal mutant won't cut it. Regular mutant citizens off the street can't just walk in and be like, 'Hey, I want to be one of your Acolytes', no. Magneto's Acolytes are the best of the best, and you have to be an _amazing_ mutant to be in. If you're not amazing, then you're just an errand boy—or whatever other job you're given. If you're lucky. But you're not allowed to live there if you're not."

"Were you ever an Acolyte?" Wanda asked curiously.

"No," he said through clenched teeth, turning his head away. "I was too good."

"Oh please."

Pietro bit down on his lip again, and stared off into the distance like he wasn't there anymore. Wanda sighed, and tugged at his wrist. "It can't be that bad," she said reasonably.

"You _want_ to go, don't you, Wanda?" he asked, keeping his eyes to the floor, so he wouldn't see the ashes and rubble around him anymore.

"I guess," Wanda said, and she turned to face him. "Are you gonna come too, or what? I have no problem going alone."

"No, I'll go with you," Pietro said quickly. "Even though I was okay with being the errand boy, Ill try again."

"Hmmm?"

"Nothing, nothing…"

There was a little cave about two hours away from Bayville, if you drove. It looked and smelled like crap from the outside, but if you had the audacity to take that foreboding first step in, you would realize that it didn't look on the inside at all like how it appeared on the outside.

After journeying through the dark tunnel, there was a big metal door that could not be moved by human hands. Right beside it was a little flat screen with a tiny speaker in the bottom right-hand corner. This was where the Acolytes who lived here entered a code for entrance. They each got an individual password, had to put their handprint in the screen, and spoke their name to the speaker. It was an amazing security system that could not be fooled by human hands. But if mutant hands even tried to fool it, there would be hell to pay, as Magneto was not a forgiving man. And he had cameras installed in many, many various places.

"This is Magneto's lair," he whispered, trying to make the moment seem spookier than it already was. "All the Acolytes live here."

Wanda watched while he pressed his hand to the screen, traced some letters into it with his index finger, and then he said, "Quicksilver."

The impenetrable metal door scraped open, and Pietro entered, gesturing for Wanda to follow.

The room they were in had a huge screen TV in it, surrounded by three very different chairs, filled with three very different people. In a stiff wooden rocking chair sat a giant of a man, who had a bundle of fabric in his lap, and was knitting and staring at the television screen in wide eyed surprise. He wore a simple T shirt and a pair of Bob the Builder pajama bottoms.

In a green colored recliner lay a man with dark brown hair and black and red eyes. He was the same man who had punched Pietro in the face and had a low, threatening voice. He was grinning at the television screen, and did not seem very threatening in the least bit in his thin white undershirt and plain dark blue pajama bottoms.

In an enormous beanbag was a man with spiky orange hair. He was the same man who had stood by the window while that other man hit her brother. He had a huge bowl of popcorn in his lap, and he was wearing a too small black T shirt, with a pair of navy colored boxer shorts, decorated all over with suns wearing sunglasses. His two socks did not match; one was black, and the other was the brightest neon green Wanda had ever seen in her entire known life, and it almost hurt her retinas to look at it.

Wanda stayed by the door, unsure if she really wanted to enter this place-- this place filled with a bunch of unfamiliar men-- in her sooty pajamas.

"Pietro!" exclaimed the dark haired man with the low voice. "What brings you here?"

"Just dropping by," Pietro said, shrugging. He walked right in front of the television screen and asked, "Is Magneto around?"

"Get out of the way!" whined the red head with the neon sock. "I want to watch what happens!"

"We are watching a scary movie," the giant man explained. "It is entitled, Revenge of the Brainsuckers."

"Where's Magneto?" Pietro repeated, putting his hands on his hips and standing his ground. "We have to talk to him."

"We?" asked the dark haired man. "Who is 'we'?"

"Me and Wanda," Pietro said, and a bloodcurdling scream was heard from the movie behind him, followed by the sounds of suction and terror. Pietro turned around to see the scene. Since he was right in front of the set, he was the only one who could really see it. "What the hell are you guys watching?"

"You ruined the best part!" John declared, hurling his bowl of popcorn at Pietro. Unfortunately, his aim was off by a mile, and it struck Wanda right in the head, knocking her flat on her back and staring at the beautifully painted ceiling above them. It really was a lovely ceiling, and it was the last thing Wanda saw before she slipped into darkness.

---------------

_------Just so you all know, I totally made up the movie Revenge of the Brainsuckers. As far as I know, it does not exist. _

_------Also, I apologize to anyone who loves Toad, Fred, and Lance. It had to be done. :-(_

_Sorry this update took a whole week when it was already written. I was in a play, and I had no free time. And I got an award for being awesome in that play!! Hoo-hah!! But anyway, REVIEW!!! I PLATONICALLY LOVE YOU ALL!!!!!! Please REVIEW!!!_


	3. Fights and Pancakes

_A/N: THANKS SO MUCH TO EVERYONE WHO REVIEWED!!!! I LOVE YOU ALL!! I'm so sorry that it's been a month. Ahhhhhh! I'm a horrible person! Don't kill me! I am very easily distracted and I take on multiple tasks at a time and sometimes I can't do it all in a timely manner. That's my excuse for being so horribly late. Please forgive me! And read, enjoy, and review. Did I mention review? _

_Disclaimer: I own nothing!_

_-----------_

**Chapter 3: Fights and Pancakes**

The only thing Wanda was aware of was the smell of raspberries, mints, and aftershave, a strange combination of scents that she had never actually smelled in nature. It was a very pleasant, comforting aroma, and she breathed in very slowly, trying to remember why on earth her head felt like it was going to split in two pieces, starting right in the corner of her forehead.

She groaned loudly, keeping her eyes closed just in case any lights came on and decided to burn out her retinas. Wanda felt a throb of pain in her forehead when she shifted her head on the nice-smelling pillow, and suddenly, she felt a spark of understanding and comprehension.

The Brotherhood was gone. She and Pietro had come over to the Acolyte base. They had walked in on a bunch of men in pajamas watching some gory movie. Then she had blacked out after feeling a sharp pang of pain in her skull. What was it that had prompted her to pass out?

It occurred to Wanda that she had no idea where she was, and she was laying down on an unfamiliar bed with nothing to cover her.

Popping her eyes open, Wanda sat up at a speed that Pietro would have been proud of, but also caused her to experience a massive, rather painful, head rush.

It was an empty bedroom.

"Hello?" Wanda asked wearily, her eyes scanning from wall to wall. They were painted a pale shade of blue, like a newborn baby boy's bedroom. It was a very plain room that resembled a living room in the fact that it had a small couch against the wall, across from the little bed she was sitting on. There was a wooden dresser against the wall between her and the couch, and next to the couch was a slightly open door, and from what Wanda could see, she could tell that it was a bathroom.

Wanda got to her feet, adjusting to the throbbing in her head, and she walked slowly to the dresser, noticing that there was a small stack of pictures tucked in the corner of the mirror on the top of it. Glancing around to be sure she wasn't being watched, Wanda reached out and pulled the pictures out to see them, distinctly aware that she was invading _someone's_ privacy. The pictures all looked old and of poor quality, and some of them looked like they had been burned before, with black scorched edges and odd wrinkles in peculiar places.

The fist picture was of an adorable little puppy dog, a little brown terrier with a bright red collar. Wanda smiled to herself, noticing a pair of arms near it, reaching out to pick it up, probably. The next picture was of four light haired girls, all standing side by side. The third was an infant with a pacifier and the brightest blue eyes she had ever seen. The fourth was of an older couple, the man with gray hair, the woman with blatantly dyed blonde hair, the reddish brown roots showing at the top of her head. The fifth was of a man's shoulders and bare back, and their skin had shiny patches of burn scars almost all over their back. This picture was burned all over the edges and almost difficult to really view.

She carefully tucked the pictures back into the corner they had been placed in, and she opened the top drawer of the dresser. Instead of the underwear or articles of clothing she expected to see, she saw that it was filled from bottom to top with lighters. Lighters of every make and model, every size and shape and shade of every color.

"Wow…" Wanda commented, slowly closing the drawer and opening the one beside it, only to find that it was also filled to the brim with hundreds of lighters.

She heard the door creak somewhere behind her, and she whirled around, the pain in her head giving a dull, almost unnoticeable lurch.

It was the red headed man, still wearing his navy blue boxer shorts, his tight black shirt, and his distinctly different socks. He was about half a head taller than she was, and the expression he wore was one of someone who hadn't slept in eternities.

"Whatcha looking at?" he asked, noticing that the dresser drawer was open.

"Nothing," she said quickly, probably too quickly, and shutting the drawer. "I wasn't exploring through anything, just wandering around."

"Oh," he frowned suspiciously, his eyes falling to the pictures on the mirror and noticing that they were at a different angle than usual.

"Where's my brother?" Wanda asked, abruptly changing the subject.

The red headed man scowled. "I don't know. He's probably still talking to Magneto."

"Where are they?" Wanda demanded, making her way to the door.

His entire demeanor changed, and he stepped against the door, not letting her pass. "You can't go. I was sent back in here to make sure you're okay, and to guard you."

"Oh, really?" Wanda folded her arms across her chest, looking him up and down, eyeing the lean muscles of his body, deciding where his weak points were. She wasn't too keen on the idea of having to be watched by someone else, like an animal. "Well, what if I knocked you down and found my way over there anyway?"

He frowned. "I'm authorized to take drastic measures if I have to. You just can't go back there."

She stared at him for a long moment, trying to decide if this was worth its trouble. If she should try to fight him, or if she should just let the issue pass. "What's your name?"

"Just call me John."

Wanda put her hands on her hips. "So that's short for Jonathan or something?"

His face flushed a little. "It's short for St. John. You could also say Sinjin. It's the same, only said faster."

"I'll call you Johnny," she said decisively, and he shrugged impassively. "Well, I'm Wanda."

John nodded. "Yep, I know that."

Wanda heaved an exaggerated sigh and turned back to the mirror on the dresser. "Tell me about these pictures, Johnny."

John smirked, coming closer smiling at the pictures on the bottom of the mirror. "I _knew_ you were snooping around here. Just like Pietro."

Wanda rolled her eyes. "Whatever." She hated when she was compared to Pietro in any way, shape, or form, especially because they were so different.

"How's your head feel?" he asked, sounding slightly anxious.

"Oh," Wanda touched her fingertips to her temple. "It doesn't hurt as much as it used to. I don't exactly remember what happened."

John gave a nervous little laugh. "Yeah… well, so long as it's better, let's not worry about it."

"Tell me what happened," Wanda said, noticing his hesitance and inclining her head. When he gave no inclination that he was going to speak, she threatened, "Or I will walk out of here and find someone who will."

He laughed and gave a cocky wave of the hand. "You can't get past me. I ain't scared of you."

"Well!" Wanda snapped, feeling slightly offended. Her hands glowed with electric blue energy. "Then you obviously don't know anything about what I can do!" And without a second thought, she knocked him backwards with a well placed hex bolt in the chest. He landed flat on his back, groaning from the crash.

She pursed her lips to hide her smile. "That's what you get," she said haughtily. Feeling satisfied, Wanda adjusted her shirt's collar and opened the bedroom door, but all of a sudden, she found herself knocked to the ground, flat on her back, but with John pressed on top of her, his two arms wrapped tightly around her upper half.

"You're not going nowhere," he told her, squeezing tightly, expecting a fight. "I told you, you can't go and that's that."

Wanda wrenched her arm out from his grasp and punched him hard in the jaw. One of his hands reached up and clutched the side of his mouth, shocked and in relative pain. She noticed the weakness and took the chance to knock him off of her and roll on top of him so he couldn't move.

"Cut it out!" he mumbled, now thrashing about because the tables had turned. His mouth was wet with blood and dripping down his chin.

"All that muscle for nothing," Wanda commented, pinning him down with her knees on either side of him and her hands on his shoulders. "You don't know anything about fighting."

"I'm not allowed to hit a girl," he said flatly.

"But I'm allowed to hit boys," Wanda said, slapping him lightly on the cheek.

"You b—"

Suddenly, there was a loud boom from the doorway, and when the door opened, a large, intimidating silhouette stood there, with other, less intimidating silhouettes surrounding it.

"Wanda," said the voice of Magneto, and he stepped into the light. He actually appeared satisfied. "Now is not the time to be beating up my Acolytes. We'll leave that for later. Get up, the both of you."

Wanda got to her feet, and adjusted her wrinkled shirt. Magneto was in full uniform, his cape billowing behind him and creating a dramatic effect. She wondered why he was all dressed up like this when it was the dead of the night.

"Dear child," Magneto said, his eyes looking at Pyro beside her and cutting into him like lasers. "I hear talk that you and your brother are prepared to become Acolytes. Is this true?"

Wanda nodded, wondering if he knew about what happened that had driven them here. "Yes, father."

"I am pleased to hear it," Magneto said. "Of course you may stay as an Acolyte, but you must be aware of the contract you are signing if you accept this challenge. Once you sign the contract, there is no turning back. Do you understand this, and are you prepared to agree to its conditions, whatever they may be?"

"Yes," Wanda said, feeling a lump form in her throat.

"Excellent," Magneto said, almost in a monotone, almost like he had expected this from the get go. "We will do your paperwork and test out your powers' limits tomorrow. As for tonight—" He glanced at Gambit, at Colossus, and then at Pyro beside Wanda. "You will borrow clothes from Pyro, for tonight and tomorrow morning _only_. Never again. You will also room with Pyro." As if someone had challenged his word, he added, "It is the best choice—I have spoken." He did not add that Gambit was a horrible womanizer, or that Colossus roomed with Mastermind, whenever he was in the area. That could not be risked. Pyro was the safest choice, especially since she currently disliked him enough to bloody his face.

"What about Pi—" Wanda began.

"Training begins at two tomorrow," Magneto stated. "There is a training schedule in the kitchen, and each one of your fellow Acolytes has one as well. Make certain that you are _never _late. The consequences are grim for those who are late." He stared fiercely at Pyro again, and then declared in a majestic voice, "Sleep well, Acolytes. Pyro, arrive early at training at 11 in the morning for a discussion. That is all."

"Aw, damn…" Wanda heard John mutter behind her, and Magneto swept away, leaving her there with the three Acolyte boys.

"The first femme!" Gambit said in a frenchy Cajun drawl, as soon as Magneto was out of earshot. "Remy never thought the day would come." He extended his hand to Wanda, who reluctantly shook it, while he tried to kiss her knuckle, resulting in her bumping his mouth rather roughly.

"I'm Wanda," she told them, feeling awkward and somewhat out of place.

"The name's Remy," said Gambit, taking one step back from her to let Colossus shake her hand, except this time she didn't knock him in the mouth when he bent to kiss her knuckles.

Gentlemen were so bizarre.

"I am Piotr," said Colossus in a thick Russian accent. It seemed everyone here had some sort of an accent.

"And I'm John," added Pyro behind her, in his own broad Australian twang, even though she already knew his name.

Wanda nodded, glancing at the cheap plastic watch on her wrist. "Well… it's late, so maybe we should go to bed…"

"That's a bloody brilliant idea," John agreed. "We've gotta get up early tomorrow, and we oughta get our eight hours."

"We could stay up an hour more and still get eight hours before we have to wake up," Remy told him. "Training don't start till two in the afternoon."

"Speak for yourself," John said darkly.

"Well, I'm tired," Wanda added, but she wasn't. She just didn't feel like talking anymore.

There was a creak behind Remy and Piotr as the door Magneto had exited from opened again, and Pietro emerged, his left eye bright pink.

"Pietro," Wanda said, "What happened to—?"

"Wanda!" Pietro exclaimed, cutting her off. "So, I heard you were officially becoming an Acolyte. Congratulations," he glared at John, his voice sounding insincere. "You must be happy. I also heard that you were rooming with Pyro. Super. Won't that be fun. Listen, Aussie, if you dare—"

"Look at the time!" John suddenly shouted, looking to his bare wrist. "I'm going to bed now! Goodnight, all!"

He turned on his heel and disappeared into the room that was hers now too. Wanda felt a tiny smile creep across her face, noticing that her brother did not seem to be well liked by these people. Vaguely she wondered why, but Pietro was annoying enough. It was almost humorous to watch.

"Where are _you_ staying, Pietro?" Wanda asked, stifling her smirk.

With Remy," Pietro said flatly, his eyes lowering to the ground. "Well, you should go to bed now. You'll need the rest; the first training session is the worst one of all."

"Okay," Wanda frowned at her brother. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing!" he exclaimed, and he stalked off with his head up high.

Confused, Wanda bid the other Acolytes goodnight and then entered the room, trying to push her brother out of her mind. He always was weird and secretive like this. Well, sometimes.

She slowly closed the door behind her, looking around the room carefully, her eyes examining every little space around her, wondering how her life here was going to be. John was nowhere to be seen, and there weren't many places he could hide.

"Johnny," she said quietly, almost sounding dangerous. Like a predator looking for its prey.

There was no response. Wanda sat on the foot of his bed and realized that there was only one bed in here. Sure, it was a large bed, but… she barely knew him… what if he kicked around in his sleep? What if he tried to make a move on her while she slept? No, no, no, that wasn't going to happen! Not if Wanda Maximoff had anything to say about it! Like hell she would share a bed with a man she hardly knew!

"Johnny!" she exclaimed, this time definitely sounding threatening.

"What?!" he shouted from the bathroom. Wanda got to her feet and knocked loudly on the restroom door.

"Where am I sleeping?" she yelled back at him.

She heard him laugh. "Wherever you want!"

Wanda scowled. "What are you doing in there?"

"Washing out my bloody mouth," he responded, and then laughed out loud again. "Get it? My bloody mouth!"

She folded her arms across her chest, unentertained. "What is your problem?"

"Pick one and I'll tell you about it," he said, and she heard the faucet turn on. Wanda sighed with exasperation and put her hand on the locked doorknob. She unlocked it with a flicker of her power, and she opened the door.

He glared at her reflection in the mirror that he was examining his mouth in. "Whaddaya want?" he asked, pulling his upper lip out and wiggling it in his fingers. She wondered briefly about his mental stability.

"How are we doing this?" Wanda demanded. "I don't particularly want to sleep with you."

He put his hand to his chest, as if he was mortally offended. "That hurts, shiela. It really does." He stuck out his tongue in the mirror to examine it, and Wanda saw that he had bitten it rather badly when she had punched him. "I'll sleep on the couch," he told her, filling a little plastic cup with water and swishing it around his mouth. "If you want clothes, just look in the closet. I don't care what you take—as long as you don't take my shark shirt. What else do you need?"

Wanda stared at him for a moment. "Does your jaw hurt a lot?"

"Nothing I can't handle," he said, after spitting bloody water in the sink.

Making pain go away was somewhat complicated, but not rocket science. Wanda knew that she could do it if she tried. It was just probability of course, but… it wasn't as if he was complaining about it or anything; therefore, it didn't matter.

"I'm going to sleep now," she said quietly, walking blearily out of the bathroom.

"Alright, then," he said, and she closed the door how it had been before. "Goodnight!" he called from behind the door. Wanda didn't respond, but lay on the bed, putting her head on the still nice-smelling pillow, and closing her eyes. The digital clock on the bedside table read 3 AM.

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Wanda awoke at 1:20 PM in an empty room, and instantly noticed the sheet of paper sitting on the bedside table, perched on top of the clock.

Sitting up groggily, she snatched the paper and read it to herself. It read, in tall, slanted handwriting:

"Dear Wanda, I have gone off to training. I will come back at 1:45 to take you to your training session. Be ready by then because we cannot be late. Just wear whatever you find in my closet. The kitchen is downstairs, if you're hungry. If you have any questions, just ask Remy or Potir Pittr Poitr (these three attempts at spelling were crossed out) Colossus. I hope you have a good morning. Sincerely, St. John"

Wanda smiled to herself and set the note back on top of the clock. She climbed out of the bed and went to the closet.

After changing into a plain red T-shirt and a pair of jeans, she went into the bathroom and brushed her teeth with her index finger and a squirt of toothpaste, combed her hair, and washed her face. And then she made her way downstairs to the kitchen, not knowing what to expect. But it certainly wasn't the giant Piotr, wearing an apron and cooking at the stove, like a gentle housewife. And the supposedly suave Remy drinking a mug of coffee and rubbing his eyes, while reading the newspaper. Like they were ordinary humans! Like they had never done a thing wrong before in their lives! These innocent people didn't seem like the intimidating Magneto's Acolytes; how could they be?

The only thing that made them different from any ordinary human was their apparel. They were obviously in costume already, ready to get to training.

"Hello," said Piotr. "What would you like to eat?"

"Uh… I don't know," Wanda shrugged. "What are you making?"

"Pancakes," he said. "Do you want pancakes?"

"Sure." Wanda sat at the table across from Remy, who peered at her above the top of the newspaper. His eyes were black, with red irises. She hadn't noticed it before at all. It would have been very creepy, if only he hadn't been smiling.

"So, how was your night?" Remy asked, setting the newspaper down.

"It was okay," she said slowly, sensing that there was more to the question than what it seemed. She asked, "How did your eyes get that way?"

Remy shrugged, seeming proud that she was sharp enough to notice and bold enough to ask. "They were like that when Remy was born. Remy still doesn't know why."

"Thanks," Wanda said to Piotr, as he set a plate in front of her.

Piotr seemed pleased that she actually had manners. "You are welcome," he said, and went back to his cooking.

"Why do you refer to yourself in the third person?" Wanda continued, sticking her fork into the doomed pancake.

Remy shrugged. "It is charming and attractive."

Wanda laughed, and began to eat her food.

Piotr sat beside Remy. "You are very different from Pietro," he said to Wanda.

"Thanks," she grinned, thinking of John's earlier comparison to her and Pietro. "Did you expect me to be the same, since we're twins?"

"Well, just a little," said Remy. "Plus, we hadn't ever met you."

Wanda shrugged. She glanced at her watch, which read 1:40. "We're not much alike," she said nonchalantly, as she picked up her empty plate and brought it to the sink. She was in the process of washing it when she heard the sound of heavy footsteps entering the kitchen.

"Wanda!" John said, his voice full of relief. "There you are. I been looking for you."

"What for?" she asked warily, not looking up.

"For training," he said, like she was an idiot. She looked up at him, and took in his appearance. He was in uniform, and out of the rest of them, he looked the most weighed down. Remy's uniform was a black bodysuit, with what looked like a blue stretchy shirt over the top, some knee high boots, and a trench coat over it all. Piotr's costume was like a woman's one piece bathing suit, red and black, but with big shiny shoulder plates and big clunky boots. But John's costume was made of orange and red spandex, and he had bulky gray gloves and boots that made his hands look very large in comparison to the rest of his body. On his head was a strange sort of helmet that covered his forehead, his ears and his chin, and a glass visor, tinted orange, shielded the top part of his face, up to the top of his nose. His bright orange hair stuck out of the top of the strange head piece, and on his back were two tanks that tied around his waist in a belt and had cables that attached from the tanks to the top of his big gloves. He had the most complex attire out of all of them, and he looked very worn out.

"You hungry?" Piotr asked him, standing.

"Don't worry about me, mate," John said breathlessly. "But we four have got to go, or we'll be late. Magneto's feeling pretty barmy today."

"What does that mean?" Wanda asked, as the four of them began to make their way to an elevator that was on the wall by the foot of the stairs.

"Uhh…" John pressed the button for the elevator to open about twenty times. "Crazy."

The training room was down at the very lowest level of the Acolyte Base. The elevator went down five floors underground. The dim lights flickered miserably and the elevator creaked in response to their combined weight and anxiety. The lower they got, the more uneasy Wanda began to feel. What if she couldn't do whatever Magneto wanted her to do? What if she wasn't as strong as she thought she was? Just because she could tackle John didn't mean that she could take the rest of the Acolytes as well. Hadn't Pietro said that the Acolytes were the best of the best? Was she the best of the best too? If she wasn't the best of the best, then she would have nowhere to go… she'd have to starve in the streets… maybe even worse!

"Don't be nervous," John told her, as the elevator stopped moving. "I'm sure you'll do fine."

"I'm not nervous," Wanda said flatly, slightly glad that someone had picked up on her feelings, regardless of who it was, but slightly irritated with herself for letting those feelings show. "Shut up."

The elevator doors opened slowly, creaking ominously. And they all stepped out. There was a gargantuan clock mounted high on the wall opposing them, and it read 1:58 PM. There was almost a collective sigh of relief as they saw it. They had made it in time.

"Welcome," boomed Magneto, from a small balcony above the very large clock on the wall. He was watching them. They gradually exited the elevator, and stood somewhere in the middle of the very large room.

There was a terrible slamming sound as the clock went from 1:59 to 2:00, and Wanda turned to see what it was. The doors from which they had just entered had slammed violently shut. If anyone had been in the doorway at that moment, they probably would have been seriously injured.

"Spread out," Magneto commanded, and they hastened to obey. Once they were all spread apart, he thundered, "Now. As you all already know, Wanda has made a decision that she is becoming an Acolyte. Naturally, to become an Acolyte, one must go through a rigorous testing of one's abilities. This session will last until only one is left standing, and in this case, it should be the Scarlet Witch. Prepare to defend yourself, Wanda. Acolytes, attack."

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_A/N: So there you have it. That's right, it's kind of a cliffhanger. Now it's time to review! Review! Review! Review!! …please!_


	4. Officially an Acolyte

_A/N: I had so much fun writing this chapter because of the ACTION! I love action. But I shan't bore you with me and my things I do. So here's the next installment, with __**MUCH LOVE**__ to those who reviewed. Did you hear that? I LOVE YOU ALL!! Don't forget to review once you're done reading, or else someone will glare angrily at you, and it will be me incarnated in their body. That's right._

_Disclaimer: I own nothing._

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**Chapter 4: Officially an Acolyte**

"Acolytes, attack."

No sooner had these words been spoken than the lights had gone off completely, and Wanda was left alone in a very dark and very dangerous room. There was no way to tell where anyone was located—which made Wanda increasingly anxious. She clenched her hands into fists and focused her energy on creating a hex bolt, just in case any of them tried to sneak up on her.

"Ha!" cried a familiar voice, and a corner of the training room lit up. There had been once wooden boxes in that corner, but now they were scorched. Flames erupted from Pyro's hands, casting an eerie glow over the entire room. Wanda scurried into an opposite corner for temporary protection as she tried to devise her plan of action. The first person to try and attack her would be the first person she would try and take out.

She peered out from behind a wooden box in her corner, adrenaline pumping through her veins like acid. The only person she could sort of make out was Pyro's silhouette, far away in the corner, in the middle of a bonfire. He was inside the fire! She squinted toward the elevator doors they had entered from, to see if any of them were near it.

Out of nowhere, a single playing card floated to the ground in front of her, glowing bright yellow with an unspoken threat. It was an Ace of Spades. She barely had a chance to consider the oddness of the situation, of the yellow, glowing card in front of her, when it suddenly exploded right at her feet, sparks and pieces of charred paper flying everywhere.

Many more small explosions echoed around the training room, coming closer and closer and closer; Wanda focused on sending them back to the sender, and she heard a yelp that told her she had succeeded. It was like a war zone in here, and she couldn't keep hidden anymore, especially since someone with an explosive deck of cards had found her.

Wanda extended her hand from behind the box and blindly shot a hex bolt out, hoping she'd hit someone. She sensed movement somewhere to her left, and looked up with wide eyes.

"Hello, _fifille_," said Gambit, leaning over the box, his red eyes flickering in an odd, sinister way.

Wanda jammed her fist upwards and straight into his jaw, knocking him back so she could get out from behind these boxes. Gambit fell back, seeming surprised by her response. His shock quickly faded away, and he roughly shoved her in response. She fell back onto her bottom from the force, sliding backwards into something very solid, something that gave a dull clunk when her body hit it.

Colossus, who was unaffected by the collision, grabbed her up by the back of her shirt and, without a second thought, flung her across the room, right into the fire, as if she was a sack of potatoes, or less.

Wanda groaned, clinging to the wall to remain steady. Flames licked at her heels, surrounding her, heating her up. The heat was incredible, and she could feel the sweat beginning to pour out, most noticeable between her clenched fingers. She huffed and wiped her forehead with the back of her hand, _very_ frustrated with the way things were going.

"Acolytes!" she called, putting herself in a fighter's stance. "Come on out and fight like men!"

A sudden flare shot out from the blaze, whipping her across her face and knocking her flat on her back, the wind knocked right out of her system. Aching and infuriated, Wanda opened her eyes, and noticed Pyro's figure strolling around her, in a circle, like a predator circling its prey.

He saw that she was still fully conscious and he grinned, placing his hands on his hips, surrounded by flames. She was in his element, and she knew it. He had the upper hand… but not for long.

"Awful hot in here, isn't it?" he raised both of his arms up, fire keeping them both from sight. He slowly lowered his two hands and then cradled the flames in his arms, not looking at her anymore, but the inferno in his embrace. Like it was his baby, something precious.

Wanda threw a hex bolt at him, knocking him off his feet. She focused on putting the fire out, and surely enough, she plunged them all into the dark again.

"It's not _that_ hot," she taunted, and she knew he was probably mad now.

"We'll see about that, Scarlet," he murmured, and Wanda heard something whiz by her ear. Another card. She whirled around, wearing a murderous glare, as the fire flared again behind her, and she decided to ignore it... for now.

Gambit was approaching, and fast, so Wanda shot another forceful hex bolt at him to buy herself time, for she didn't want to deal with two of the Acolytes at the same time, but then she saw Colossus, the third, charging at her. That guy had to weigh over 300 pounds, and none of it looked like fat, either.

First, to take out the most formidable... Wanda shut her eyes, focusing her concentration on the task of rusting the metal that covered Colossus' body.

"What…?" Colossus sounded shocked, and there was the sound of metal grating together, and then a loud clunk as he fell onto his face on the floor from the velocity he had been running at. He remained on the floor and began hollering what sounded like Russian expletives. She couldn't help but think: _One down, two to go…_

"Bet you thought you had seen the last of Gambit, huh?" Gambit said, and she noticed the long staff in his hand. It was taller than she was, almost taller than he. As fast a lightning, he had whipped it out and struck her behind the knees, knocking her down again. He was smiling like he had won already. "You're good, _fifille_," he said, and stabbed the pole into the ground, right beside her face. "But I'm afraid your time is up."

"Wanna bet?" Wanda snapped, and stuck her leg up into the air, kicking him in the stomach. While he doubled over, she focused her probabilities on melting the staff that he was leaning on into nothing, by altering the heat surrounding the metal.

The staff melted, as if it had suddenly turned into water in his hand, and he fell to the ground from the lack of balance. As soon as he hit the ground, she made the liquid solidify, and he was stuck on the floor by way of his arms.

He _also_ began a stream of cursing, an interesting mix of French and English.

Wanda turned her attention to Pyro, who had watched his teammates fall with apparent interest in his eyes. And then he noticed that she had turned her sights onto him.

He grinned at her, his eyes alert and alive, and then he turned his flames off, leaving them in the dark room again. The last thing she had seen were his straight white teeth, mocking her with their smirking and mischief.

She waved her arms around, but he had disappeared to somewhere else.

"Come on, Pyro," she shouted. "Let's get this over with already."

"You have to come and find me first," he laughed, and she heard his footsteps scurrying away.

Growling to herself, Wanda concentrated her mind on making him fall down, hard enough to make a loud sound. Sure enough, she heard a crash, followed by his impassioned shout. There was a glimmer of flame from somewhere at least a good twenty feet away and Wanda slowly crept over, trying to keep him unaware of her presence.

He had a tiny flame in the palm of his hand, his fingers cupped around it to shield it from harm. She could see him now, but he couldn't see her, or at least, he wasn't showing any signs of it. He was looking around, his silhouette slightly crouched down in what could have been a fighter's stance. Wanda bit her lip, concentrating on making gravity affect him three times more than usual. It was a quick and simple solution, and something fun that she had done to Todd one time when she had been bored.

"Huh?" he looked down to the ground, and she could tell that he was struggling to keep standing. His eyes went wide and shiny, and collapsed right there, with no prior indication that he was going to fall.

"There…" Wanda breathed, and the lights began to flicker back on, old and dull.

"Wow, Wanda!" Pietro's voice exclaimed from up in the balcony, and then there was a click and a shuffle for the intercom.

"Wanda!" Magneto declared. "You have defeated the three strongest Acolytes. It took you one hour and twelve minutes." He gestured to the clock, which read 3:12 pm. "Congratulations on a job well done."

Wanda hoped he would let her go back to the room and shower and take a nap. She was exhausted and drained of energy. Fighting the Acolytes had been very, very taxing. Breathlessly, she looked around to the conquered Acolytes, who all, for their own various reasons, could not get up off the floor. Pietro had been right. They _were _the best of the best.

"Thank you, Magneto," she said, looking back up to the balcony.

"You will now come into the next room with me," he instructed, and a little door opposite to the elevator they had taken in opened.

"But what about them?" she asked, looking around to the defeated ones, who all looked as if they were suffering or in pain. "Can I release them from my spells?"

"No," said Magneto, glaring at them each individually before proceeding. "This can be their punishment. Come along."

Wanda opened her mouth to protest, but then she caught sight of Pietro in the doorway that they were about to enter, and he shook his head vigorously, then glanced to Magneto apprehensively to see if he had seen, which he had not.

Magneto led her and Pietro into a little room, painted a pale shade of gray. The desk was made of metal, as were the chairs and the frames on the wall, and basically everything in this little office was some sort of metal.

"Sit," Magneto instructed, and Wanda sat in the chair on one side of the metal desk. Pietro stood beside her, and immediately began pacing; he couldn't keep still for over a few seconds.

Magneto sat opposite her and laced his fingers together on top of the desk.

"You fought excellently," he told her, tapping his knuckles with his laced fingers. "I would be pleased to make you an Acolyte of mine."

Wanda smiled, relief filling that space where the adrenaline had been rushing through. No more worries about where to live, when they'd eat, or what they'd wear. They would have a place.

"And Pietro, too?" she asked, looking up at her brother, who was still pacing back and forth.

"Pietro will be able to _stay_," Magneto said slowly. "He will not be an Acolyte, but he can stay."

"Oh," Wanda tried to gauge Pietro's reaction, but he didn't appear to be paying any attention to them at all. "Well, that's alright, I suppose," she said finally, figuring that she could trust her father with something like this. He would know what he was doing, and he wouldn't let any harm come to his children, and she was sure of it.

"Excellent," said Magneto, plastering a smile on his face. Wanda didn't remember the last time she had seen her father smile, even if it was as strained as it was now. He threw a packet of papers onto the counter, and pointed to the bottoms of several of them. "Sign here; sign there."

Wanda hesitated, looking up to him, and then back to Pietro. The words were in such a tiny print that she could barely decipher what was written.

"Father…" she said slowly. "I don't think…"

"You can trust me, Wanda," Magneto told her. "I would never lead you astray." After noticing that she still was hesitant, he said, "A good Acolyte trusts their superior. I only have good intentions for you and your brother."

She sighed, knowing her father wouldn't lie to her about something so serious, and she obediently signed the places where he pointed, and then looked up at her anxious brother again, who didn't respond.

"Alright," said Magneto, seeming satisfied. "Now let us go into the next room for some testing. Pietro, you may go if you—"

"No, I think I'll stay," he said, without missing a beat. Magneto gave him a stern look, but Pietro didn't back away. And the three of them went into the testing room.

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About 2 hours had passed when Wanda emerged from the testing. After many blood, personality, and endurance tests, Wanda Maximoff was officially an Acolyte. She was achy and sweaty and weakened, and the last thing she wanted to do was deal with other people; Pietro knew it and had run off to his room or somewhere else after all the tests were over. Wanda was well aware that she was a moody person when she didn't feel at her best, and needless to say, this was one of those times.

"I'm sorry, guys," Wanda sighed, as she released her fellow Acolytes from her magic spells.

They moaned almost in unison.

Piotr was still muttering under his breath, as he transformed from rusty metal man to aching human, and he had blotchy red patches all over his skin from where the rust must have run its deepest. He did not look very happy at all, but he said, "Congratulations, Wanda, on becoming Acolyte."

"Oh… thanks," Wanda said, wincing as she saw him pick at one of the red patches.

"Yes, bravo, fille," Remy added, slowly sitting up himself. He had a path of dried blood from his bottom lip to the middle of his neck, and the way he was moving seemed like he probably was wounded in the stomach as well, where she had kicked him.

"We oughta go celebrate," John suggested, his voice weaker than usual. But then he lit up when he added, "Oh, I know! We should have a _bonfire!"_ He sat up on his knees, and Wanda noticed that his face was very flushed. He winced and groaned with each movement he made, and he appeared physically ill. But being flat on one's face for two hours when one is trapped in three times the earth's gravitational pull will do that to a person.

"Not _again_," Remy said, with an exaggerated groan.

"Will one of you blokes get over here, already?" John demanded good-naturedly. "I'm having a bit of trouble standing, and I think some _help_ might do me some good."

"I will help," Piotr said, getting to his feet, and grabbing John by his shoulders. John groaned loudly when Piotr lifted him into an upright position, and squeezed his eyes tightly shut to help deal with it. He whimpered, but managed to take a steady breath, and endure the pain of his blood rushing everywhere in his body at once.

"So, how was this session?" Remy asked Wanda, picking at the dried blood on his chin. Wanda shrugged, and he laughed, while John had recovered enough to push the elevator button a good 15 times before it the doors opened.

"The first session is the worst one," John told her, sounding reminiscent and proud. "I nearly died during mine."

"Wait… who did _you_ all have to fight?" Wanda asked, as they entered.

"I fought Sabertooth and Mastermind," said Remy.

"I fought Magneto and Mastermind," Piotr said bitterly.

"I fought Sabertooth and Colossus here," John said, pouting because he was the only one who had almost died. "It was 'cause I was real unhealthy when I got here, and the only thing that had me going were me tykes."

"Huh?" Wanda arched an eyebrow.

"I'm sure you found them while you were snooping," John said, with a wave of his hand like it was no big deal. "I still have every one I ever owned. They are more dear to me than… than… anything!"

Wanda looked to Remy, and then to Piotr, who both just smiled and wore expressions that said plainly, 'Well, that's life.' and she wondered what on earth was wrong with these people? How could they have two separate entities in one body? They were cold and ruthless when they fought, but then became so vulnerable and kindhearted when they went about the rest of their daily lives; it just didn't make sense at all.

The elevator doors opened, revealing the living area, and the four Acolytes stepped out.

"I'm taking a shower now," John declared, grinning and stumbling up the stairs to where all the rooms were. "See you all in a bit."

Wanda nodded at him, and Remy tapped on her shoulder and mumbled, "Tell John that we'll have the meeting today in y'all's room." When Wanda frowned, he added, "He'll know what you're talking about. Make sure you tell him."

"Okay…" Wanda said slowly, and Piotr walked out to the kitchen.

"If anyone is hungry, I will cook," Piotr called back, and the sound of the sink running was heard as he washed his hands.

"Remy will be watching the TV," Remy said, strolling to the living room and flicking the TV set on with the remote, sitting in the same place he had been sitting the night prior, when she had arrived, and she was reminded of what had happened. She stepped forward and asked, "Remy, how did I get knocked out last night?"

"John didn't tell you?" Remy asked, a huge smile spreading across his face.

"No," she shook her head.

"He threw a lead bowl at Pietro," Remy explained, "but he never was the athletic type, and he hit you instead. Magneto punished him earlier today, since Pietro went and told him."

Wanda scowled to herself. "Well that explains a lot," she muttered. "Serves him right for being so mean."

Remy stared at Wanda for a long moment. "Pietro can be a jerk," he said, somewhat defensively. "John doesn't like him very much."

She sat at the edge of the couch, sensing that there was more to this than a petty disagreement, or a rude comment. "Why?" she asked.

"Can't say," Remy said, though he obviously knew exactly why. "He has his reasons, though. I'm sure he'll tell you on his own."

"Well, _you_ don't like him either, do you?" Wanda pointed out, remembering only two nights ago, when she had seen Remy punch Pietro, and John had been right there, too, hadn't he? "Is that why you punched him the other day? Because you don't like him?"

"No," Remy shook his head, glancing over her shoulder to see if anyone was there. He leaned forward. "Magneto _told_ us to do that."

"I don't believe you," Wanda snapped. "What were you guys talking about? You were arguing about something, and you punched him for some reason—"

"Remy's under very strict orders not to tell," he said, searching her eyes. "You're pretty sharp, you know."

"Thanks," Wanda said sullenly. She frowned, just as Maury on TV announced, "Tommy… you _are_ the father." And the audience hooted and hollered and laughed, because apparently he hadn't wanted the baby.

Remy smiled at her, and then turned his attention back to the TV set.

She sat there for a long moment and then got to her feet. "Well, I'm gonna go upstairs now."

"Don't forget to tell John," he told her, and she nodded in affirmation, feeling annoyed because she knew that she was being left out of something. She placed her hand on the bedroom door, noticing that all the doors had the names of the inhabitants of the room labeled on them. Across the hall had "GAMBIT" carved into the metal and "QUICKSILVER" written on a piece of paper and taped underneath it.

The next door had "COLOSSUS" carved into it, and "MASTERMIND" in paper; and the next door had "SABERTOOTH" only, carved into it, and a very large gaping hole underneath it, where letters obviously had once been, but had been viciously scratched out.

And then there was "PYRO" on their own door. She wanted to put her own name in the door, but decided that she could do that tomorrow or sometime this week. She entered, and then heard an exclamation. And that's when she noticed the half naked person running into the bathroom.

She had never been more thankful that shorts had been invented, even if they were rather scanty.

John peered out from the tiny crack in the door, smiling sheepishly. "I forgot we share," he said, blushing pink. "Sorry. Could you maybe give me that towel over there?"

He extended his arm out of the small opening in the door and pointed to a green towel that was draped over the back of the couch where he had slept the night previous. Wanda retrieved it, and he grinned at her.

"Thanks," he said, closing the door.

"Oh," she said, remembering. "Remy said that there's a meeting in our room tonight."

"What?" he exclaimed, popping the door open again and sticking his head out. "But… but it's so soon!"

Wanda inclined her head. "What's it about?"

"Patience is a virtue," he told her, closing the door again. "You'll find out soon enough."

"Fine," she didn't feel much like arguing over it, so as soon as she heard the shower turn on, she began to rummage through his clothes, knowing that she still didn't have anything to wear. Maybe she would get a chance to go out sometime and buy some clothes to wear, at least some undergarments. She would have to wash what she had in the sink before she showered. Life was just unfair sometimes.

_-----------_

_Fifille means "Little girl" but is more derogatory._

_A/N: In case anyone is wondering, I call them by their codenames if they are in battle. Outside of battle, I call them by their birth names, except for Magneto. Simple enough, right?_

_This REVIEW is REVIEW not a REVIEW subliminal REVIEW message REVIEW. Thanks in advance. Now review. Next chapter soon to come! _


	5. The Initiation that Counts

_A/N: This chapter is brought to you by me getting really sick and not being able to go to school for 3 days. I didn't think it would take as long to write as it did. I seriously thought it would be done forever ago. But I wanted to make sure that I got all the little details right, and so… there you go. Sorry!! But anyway, please REVIEW!! It really, really helps me if you do! I'll stop ranting now, but remember to review!_

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything._

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**Chapter 5: The Initiation that Counts**

When Wanda exited the shower, wearing John's pajama bottoms and a red T shirt, the room was illuminated by nine or ten tall candles. None of the lights were on, and John was leaning over the wooden bedside table, crooning to one of the candles' wicks as he lit an eleventh candle with one of his many lighters.

"How many of those are you lighting?" Wanda asked.

"As many as I possibly can fit in this room," John said, glaring at her for disrupting his moment. "I have about thirty more of _these_ types of candles in my closet, and nearly fifteen of them tiny, fat kinds too."

"You must like fire an awful lot," she commented, remembering how he had cradled the flames during that training session. Like they were his babies, or his lovers even.

"I love my fire, and my fire loves me," he said, seeming offended that she would ever consider doubting something so obvious and dear to him. "Why do you think my bloody codename is Pyro?"

"Because it means 'fire' in Latin?" she guessed, and he pursed his lips as he cupped a hand beside the tip of the candle. The fire on top of the wick flickered, and then transferred itself to the palm of his hand, setting his hand on fire. John grinned at her, straightening his body up and extending his fiery hand to her to shake, as if they had just met.

Wanda scoffed, and snapped her fingers, putting the small fire out with only the slightest of probabilities.

John scowled at her, seeming deeply hurt that anyone would ever dare to harm his creations in such a way. "I don't appreciate that," he said, glowering, as he relit the candle on the table without playing around with the flame.

"_You_ are a fire hazard, and this desk is made of _wood_," Wanda pointed out, and in all honesty, she didn't want to see the place go down just because he wanted to fool around. "It's for your own safety."

"Whatever," John said sarcastically. "I have perfect control."

"Of course you do," Wanda said, wondering if she should be concerned that her new roommate was the biggest pyromaniac she had ever met. She tapped her fingers on the tabletop, wondering why on earth he would be given a _wooden_ desk if he liked to play with fire this much. "When are Remy and Piotr coming over here?"

"Pretty soon," he shrugged. "I don't know."

"What are they coming here for?" she asked, putting her hand on her hip.

"I don't know," he repeated, focusing his eyes back on the candle in front of him. "Secret business, perhaps?"

Wanda sat at the foot of the bed, glancing at her fingernails, sort of wishing that she could go to bed. It was fairly late, and it hadn't exactly been a mellow day.

John plopped himself onto the floor beside the table, flicking the lighter in his hand on and off. On and off. On and off. "So how are we going to pass the time?" Wanda asked, annoyed with the lighter in his hand.

"We oughta light more candles," he suggested, looking contemplatively toward the closet.

"Um, I think we have enough," Wanda tried not to laugh. Was he joking?

"You can never have enough," John told her, getting to his feet, just as a light knock was heard at the door. Before he even had a chance to go over, it opened on its own. There stood Remy, with a small bag draped over his shoulder and a big grin on his face.

He nodded in acknowledgement of the two of them. "Hey, Wanda. John-john."

"Don't call me that," John said sullenly.

"Let's sit in a circle," Remy suggested, shifting the bag over to his other shoulder. "John, my dear boy, why on earth did you light so many candles?"

John huffed with exasperation. "Well, _obviously_. If I didn't, then how would we _see_?"

"But you got to set the mood," Remy said. "It isn't supposed to be all bright and happy. This is supposed to be personal. Personal means dim lights. Haven't you ever been on a _romantic_ date before?"

John hung his head. "No."

"Well, put out a few," Remy told him, as Piotr entered the room, carrying a different bag, much larger than that of Remy.

"Ohh…" John sighed sadly, looking around the room. "But I couldn't bear to do such a thing…"

"Allow me," Wanda volunteered, and with a wave of her hand, half of the candles had been snuffed. John cried out in dismay, as the room dimmed considerably. Before he had a chance to protest, Piotr set his bag down with a thunk and said, "John, do you want the gavel?"

"You bet!" John exclaimed, his disappointment gone almost as quickly as it had come.

"What is this, a trial?" Wanda asked, watching Remy sit on the carpet in the middle of the room.

"No," Piotr said. "John just really enjoys the gavel."

"Order, order!" John yelled, knocking the gavel against a scowling Remy's head.

"Thanks, Piotr," Remy said sarcastically, as John quietly cackled to himself, hitting the gavel lightly against the palm of his hand. "Remy refuses to sit beside this maniac."

"You can be that way," John said haughtily. "See if I care."

"So, what exactly are we doing here?" Wanda asked. "What is this meeting here all about?"

"This is the initiation that counts," Remy told her, gesturing for her to sit.

Piotr sat down beside Remy, and John plopped down by Piotr, across from Remy, who made a face at him. "Sit," Piotr offered to Wanda, when he saw that she was hesitating. "We shall not hurt you."

"We don't bite," said Remy. "Except for Johnny-boy, occasionally. But only to those he don't like."

"Shut it," John said darkly, throwing the gavel at Remy, but missing completely and hitting the mirror over the dresser, shattering it into millions of pieces.

"Good Lord, John," Wanda remarked, as John sullenly got up and retrieved the gavel from the pile of glass all over the floor and dresser top. "Your aim is atrocious."

Pouting, John sifted through the glass rubble and fished out the pictures that had been in the corner of the mirror, and stuffed them into one of the lighter-filled drawers, and sat back down in his spot, looking distinctly upset.

Wanda slowly sat down between Remy and John, still not understanding what on earth was going on. Piotr took a packet of paper out of his bag and gestured for John to begin whatever they were doing.

"Order, order," John said, hitting the gavel on the floor and glaring at Remy. "This meeting of the Acolytes of Magneto officially has now come to session."

"Dearly Beloved," said Remy, reading off of the paper. "We are gathered here today to initiate the newest Acolyte into our Circle of Trust."

"We are expected to fight as a team," Piotr added. "But Magneto wishes for us to keep apart and not know each other well, because it could 'complicate' things."

"And that doesn't make sense," John continued, sounding tired. "You can't fight together if you don't know each other's strengths and weaknesses and personalities. You can't defeat someone properly as a team if you haven't got the bond with each other to know what your partner is gonna do so you can do the rest."

"Do you agree, Wanda?" Remy asked kindly, and the three of them looked to her for her response.

"Yes," Wanda said solemnly, and she wondered if there were any real reasons behind Magneto not wanting the three of them to really know each other. How on earth could it complicate things if they knew each other well?

"Good," said Remy.

"We shall be a family," Piotr pronounced, digging into Remy's bag and drawing out a folded piece of wood. He pressed a button on the wood and a blade unfolded out of it; a switchblade.

"Whoa!" Wanda blurted. "What's that for?"

"This is how we become a family," Piotr told her, opening his hand and pressing the tip of the blade into the center of his palm, deep enough to make it pool with blood. Then he switched hands and cut his other palm. "Families have the same blood."

"I see," she said, watching Piotr hand the blade to John, who looked at it apprehensively for a long moment before proceeding to cut himself in the palms of his hands. He then handed it to Wanda.

She held the knife in her hand and glanced around the circle at all of them, fairly certain that they were not all insane. Well, at least not Piotr and Remy. So, where had they gotten this crazy idea for an initiation?

"You can do it," Piotr encouraged.

"Yeah, it doesn't hurt," John said, though the expression on his face indicated otherwise.

"You guys better not have any diseases," Wanda said, knowing she could use her probability to keep her blood clean if need be. She reluctantly pressed the tip of the blade into her palms. It didn't hurt _too_ much, and she watched Remy take the blade and proceed to cut himself.

"Now we link hands," Piotr instructed, and even though he was giving orders, he sounded very undemanding.

Remy set the bloody knife in the center of their circle, and extended his hands to Piotr and Wanda. Wanda watched them link hands, and lace their fingers together so that their wounds would touch one another's. She took John and Remy's hands and intertwined her fingers with theirs, then looked to Piotr, waiting for instruction. She hadn't any idea of what could possibly come next.

"There are only three rules," Remy said quietly, leaning forward so they could hear him properly. "Rule one: To Magneto's face, we _always_ obey him."

"No matter what," added John. "Even if he says to knock one of us into a coma."

"Rule two," Remy continued. "We do not keep secrets from each other, since we are a family, unless Magneto specifies that we don't tell. He does terrible things when he's angry, and he will become very angry if he finds out his trust was betrayed."

"We have seen it before," Piotr said, and the both of them looked at John, who ignored their gaze entirely.

"Rule three," John said, looking at Wanda instead of Remy and Piotr. "We must not betray _each other_. Apparently, we are a family, and to betray one another is the lowest form of treachery. If something is said in confidence, or suggested, or… or whatever. You don't tell, _especially _if you know there will be serious consequences, and especially if you don't know what you are talking about."

There was a slight, uneasy pause, and Wanda wondered what it was that had happened here that she didn't know about.

"Wanda," said Remy. "Do you promise to uphold these rules that we have placed before you?"

"Yes," she responded, with a nod.

Piotr lifted his two hands, connected to John and Remy, and the two of them lifted Wanda's hands up.

"So," Piotr said. "We are connected now by the bond of blood."

There was another pause, less tense than the one prior, and then Piotr released Remy and John's hands.

"Here," said Piotr, pushing an old-looking sheet of paper forward as Remy and John freed her hands. "This is a contract."

"It acknowledges that you agree to our terms and want to be a part of our Acolyte family," Remy added, seeing the expression on her face. "We've all signed it, see?"

Leaning forward to see it, Wanda saw that it listed the three rules they had just explained, and then had three signatures and a burn hole at the bottom.

"What's with the hole?" Wanda asked, looking around at the boys.

"Oh." Piotr shifted uncomfortably, and Remy sighed wearily.

"That was Pietro," Remy said, sounding disapproving. "He is no longer an Acolyte."

"What? Why?" Wanda asked incredulously. "He didn't tell me he had ever been an Acolyte before."

"He broke the rules," John responded. "Two of them."

"What happened?"

"Let's talk about that later," John waved his hand in dismissal, pulling a pen out of his back pocket. "Here you go."

Wanda took the pen and examined the signatures. "Piotr N. Rasputin" written in big, blocky letters, then "Remy J. LeBeau" in round, circled scribbles, and "St. John P. Allerdyce" in tall letters, slightly slanted to the left.

Inclining her head, Wanda signed parallel to the others' names, not wanting to sign underneath the large hole near the bottom of the paper. "Wanda D. Maximoff," she signed in her scribbly right-slanted handwriting.

Piotr took the paper, and carefully stored it in a large book.

"So that's all?" Wanda asked, watching Remy pick at the cut in his palm.

"Yes, let's get up," Piotr said, beginning to stand.

"Order! Order! You can't get up yet! Sit!" John banged the gavel on the floor. "Come on, now. Order!" He waited until the rest of them were obviously exasperated and well annoyed. "Okay. This meeting of the Acolytes of Magneto is now officially adjourned. There. Now you can get up."

There was a simultaneous rolling of the eyes between Remy, Wanda, and Piotr.

"Now it's time for everyone to go back to their rooms," John announced, pointing to the clock on the bedside table, which read 2:54 am. "Who has training? What's the calendar say?"

"Remy and Pete," Remy said, giving Piotr a brotherly punch in the arm. "It'll be Wednesday."

"Can I see a calendar?" Wanda asked, as John pulled out a calendar from one of the non-lighter filled drawers.

"They've already fixed it," he told her. "You're on it now, too."

"Well, we shall see you tomorrow, Wanda," Piotr said, and he opened their bedroom door. "And you too, John."

"G'night, Piotr," John said, sitting at the foot of the bed, and he waved at Remy, who snatched the gavel out of John's hand.

"Hey!"

"See you both," Remy said, saluting them with the gavel in hand. And he disappeared out the door, closing it loudly behind him.

Wanda looked down at the calendar in her hands. Tomorrow, (technically today, since midnight had passed) was Wednesday. She looked for the days when she would have to train.

"_**Monday: Pyro, Gambit**_

_**Tuesday: the Scarlet Witch, Gambit**_

_**Wednesday: Colossus, Gambit**_

_**Thursday: Colossus, Pyro**_

_**Friday: the Scarlet Witch, Pyro**_

_**Saturday: the Scarlet Witch, Colossus"**_

Underneath the schedule, in a small print, read:

"_**Group training sessions will be randomly scattered throughout the month, and you will not be warned in advance. A good Acolyte is always prepared for anything."**_

Tuesday, Friday, and Saturday… that wasn't so bad. Wanda looked up at John, who was standing beside her, looking over the schedule as well.

"Looks like you and me have the day tomorrow," he said, grinning at her. "Whaddaya wanna do?"

Wanda shrugged, keeping her eyes on the paper. "Are you going to bed?" she asked.

"Mm-hmm," he nodded, pinching his bottom lip between his forefingers. "You tired?"

She shrugged again, watching him amble over to the couch, feeling vaguely guilty that she had taken his bed away from him. But it was a very small feeling, as she was firmly against the idea of sharing her sleeping space with him.

He plopped down on the couch, still thoughtfully squeezing his lip. He seemed like he suddenly was off in another world, so Wanda silently went into the bathroom and brushed her teeth with her index finger and some toothpaste. Then, after feeling a brief sting of pain in the palms of her hands, she decided to heal them. Concentrating her energy on her palms, she carefully began to heal her wounds, listening to the quiet sounds of her roommate shifting in his couch bed.

The room was suddenly very silent. Wanda cautiously made her way back into the room, glancing at John on the couch. Somehow, he was already dead asleep, his arms folded together, acting as a pillow beneath his cheek.

She watched him in this peaceful state for a long moment, pleased that he didn't snore or make crazy sounds in his sleep. As quietly as she could, Wanda climbed into bed and turned out the lights to sleep.

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_A/N: I got that initiation idea with the knife from the movie __The Ya-Ya Sisterhood__. I saw it billions of years ago, but the idea was interesting for me, and it stuck in my brain, so that's that. But the words said and the rules and all that jazz, that's all mine. I admit it; this is a strange chapter. I feel like a crazy person but it's okay._

_REVIEWS!!! I NEED THEM!!! REVIEW!_


	6. Getting Coffee

_A/N: ZOMG, I'm aliiiiiiiive!!!!! ...6 months later... I suck as an updater. Please forgive me, readers!! D: I'll spare you my excuses and just give you the chapter, since I'm sure you all have been waiting in a semi-patient state. Please read and review! I hope there are some of you still out there... Here's a bit of Jonda for you. And little, hidden bits of plot. :D_

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**Chapter 6: Getting Coffee**

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Wanda was vaguely aware of something light brushing against her nose, something that felt like a dull itch or tickle. She turned her head to the side, groaning loudly. The itching feeling went away.

She could hear the sounds of morning around her. Outside, birds were chirping, and leaves were rustling with a light summer breeze, and all the pretty weather crap that one sees in the movies was actually in full force outside, making the morning air peaceful and calm. Her nose began to itch again, and she frowned in her state of semi-consciousness, sticking her jaw out and blowing air aggressively toward her nose to stop the itching. Thankfully, it stopped again.

Allergies. It must be. Or perhaps a fly had come to land on her nose and would not leave her alone.

Wanda hated flies. Flies and every other creepy little critter out there, anything small enough to land on a pile of garbage and then on a piece of food and not get noticed. She always made it a point to annihilate them, like that spider that had been chasing Pietro around what seemed like so long ago. The itching returned with a vengeance, and, growling, Wanda reached up and smacked herself hard in the face to exterminate the creature.

She heard giggling.

Wanda scowled, feeling a strange sticky feeling between her fingers and all over her nose. There was no way a mere fly could have contained such a plentiful amount of guts inside it. Her eyes popped open and fell upon her right hand, covered with shaving cream.

There was that giggle again.

John. He was kneeling by her bed, a huge grin on his face. She glared at him, noticing the large fuzzy green feather in his hand.

"Ugh!" Wanda threw her hand out and flicked a hex bolt at him, knocking him backwards about a foot away. He seemed mostly unaffected, and continued to laugh at her as she sat up and growled angrily. "What the hell did you do _that_ for?"

"It's all in good fun," he told her, brushing the tip of the feather over his chin in a semi-flirtateous manner. Wanda was not amused. "You're welcome to do it to me any time you like."

"I'm gonna kill you," she said darkly, wiping the shaving cream off of her face with her clean hand, obviously very irritated.

"So, do I get some last words?" John asked thoughtfully. "I think I'd want them to be--"

"Just shut up," she snapped, pushing the covers away as she made her way to the bathroom, careful to keep her hands to herself so she wouldn't get this mess everywhere. She paused at the bathroom door, turning to face John, who was still sitting on the floor. "When am I supposed to get my own clothes?"

He smiled. "Why, you don't like mine?"

She rolled her eyes, currently in a heightened bad mood. And it was all his fault, too. Her mood did not elevate as he got up and dusted himself off calmly. "That doesn't answer my question."

"I don't know," he said, shrugging. "Probably today or tomorrow."

"Super," she muttered sarcastically, frowning at the bathroom's doorknob, able to see her reflection. She opened it. "You can go away now."

"No problem, girly," he said cheekily, inclining his head. "I'll be downstairs if you need me, in the kitchen probably. Want me to cook for you?"

Wanda pursed her lips, the unexpected image of blackened toast over a roaring fire shooting through her mind. "No… I think I'll manage on my own."

"Okay, but you don't know what you're missing!" John admonished. He grinned at her, and then left the room with a cheerful wave. Wanda rolled her eyes and washed her hands in the bathroom, remembering with a tiny spark of dread that she and John had no training today. Great; she might have to spend the better part of her day with him. This guy who already was giving her a headache. That was just freaking awesome.

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When Wanda descended the stairs and arrived in the kitchen, she was greeted by the sight of Piotr focusing on the back of a cereal box, as if he was trying to figure out something on it. Remy was searching through the cupboard for something, and John was playing with the stove, turning the knob to the left, making the fire grow to unnatural proportions and cackling madly to himself. The others were pointedly ignoring him.

Piotr nodded at her in greeting, and Remy cursed as something fell in the cupboard and landed on his head with a thud.

"Hey, Wanda," John said, not looking up from the stove fire.

After pouring herself a cup of juice, Wanda sat down at the table and silently watched these boys for a moment. This was very different from the Brotherhood mornings. At the Brotherhood, there was always someone trying to get on her nerves and make her talk; none of them had ever stopped to consider that perhaps she didn't want to talk to them. She swallowed, remembering that they were gone. Being at the Acolytes was a better situation for her for many reasons, but she did feel a bit sad that the boys had to go the way they had. She felt a mixture of relief and sadness at the fact that she hadn't really gotten to know any of them as well as she could have; if she had known them better, she might be devastated, but then again, there was that little pinch of regret. It wasn't like she could get to know them anymore if she wanted to now.

Wanda sighed, looking at her juice. It did no good to dwell about this now. There was nothing that she could do about it to make it better. Now, all she could do was try and enjoy her life here. And maybe get to know these people a little more. And Pietro. She could not forget him; after all, he had saved her, hadn't he?

Remy groaned loudly, interrupting her thoughts and gathering everyone in the room's attention.

"What's a matter?" John asked promptly.

"Coffee's run out," Remy said curtly, shaking the empty container angrily.

"Just drink some pop," John offered. "It's got _just_ as much caffeine in it."

"Go buy some more," Wanda suggested logically.

"It is blessing in hiding," Piotr said, his eyes still glued to the cereal box in his hands. "Coffee is bad for health."

Remy gave him a dirty look, and then glanced back into the cupboard. "There ain't enough time for me to go to the store and get back in time for training."

John snickered, taunting, "You ain't gonna make it through training, are you now?"

Remy scowled at him and suddenly the empty container in his hands lit up. Wanda watched with amusement as Remy tossed the charged jug at John, who drew up the flames from the stove to defend himself. The flames and the charged box met in midair and created a satisfactory explosion above their heads.

"Hmm," Wanda said solemnly, taking a small sip of her drink, watching the charred remains of the container drift lazily to the ground with mild interest. Piotr seemed to be ignoring them all, as if this happened every day. And for all Wanda knew, it did.

John pursed his lips, turning his attention back to the stove, though watching Remy guardedly, as though the man might attack him again. "Don't be mad at _me_ 'cause _you're_ an addict. That ain't my fault."

"You should send John out to buy more for you," Wanda recommended, taking another swig of her juice and enjoying the expression of surprise on John's face.

"Johnny, you're going out to get more coffee," Remy told John, with barely a pause to consider the idea.

"Wanda," John complained, pouting.

"It's not like it's expensive," Wanda shrugged, slightly pleased that she might be able to have the day to herself, although she had no idea what she would do. She would figure something out; Wanda usually enjoyed her solitude.

"You still won't have it by the start of the training session," John pointed out. "Why don't you find Pietro? He's the fast one, remember? He'd even be back in time for you to get a bit of celebration in."

"Pietro might poison it," Remy said darkly, handing John some money. "Here you go."

Wanda snorted. "Why would Pietro want to _poison_ you?"

Remy pursed his lips and said nothing. There was an oddly uncomfortable pause. "Go on, Johnny," Remy said finally.

John frowned, pocketing the money reluctantly. "I have to go all by my lonesome?"

"Wanda will go with you," Remy gestured for her to get up. "Go on and hurry back."

"Exc_use_ me?" Wanda set her cup down. "I don't think so."

"It _was_ your idea," John pointed out, seeming pleased at the prospect of her accompanying him.

"Yeah, and make sure he don't burn or explode anything on the way there," Remy said, putting a hand to his forehead as though he had a withdrawal headache.

"Hee!" John grinned, bouncing out of the room.

Wanda scowled at Remy. "What is your problem?" she snapped. "I can't go out to a _store_ with that lunatic! Do you know how he woke me up this morning? I am _not _going into a social setting with that guy."

"Come on, Wanda," Remy said. "The boy doesn't remember to tie his own shoes if he ain't told. Besides, it ain't like you'll be going anywhere else today. You may as well just go for the ride."

Wanda glared furiously at him. "_Fine_. But you owe me big. That means, if I decide I want candy in the middle of the night, _you're_ gonna be the one getting up at three in the morning to get it."

"Fair deal," Remy said, sitting at the table and putting his head in his hands.

Scowling, Wanda finished her juice and slammed the cup hard on the countertop. With an annoyed sigh, she exited the kitchen and followed John's path out the front door.

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John led Wanda out of the base, his energy seeming to increase with his every step. He led her down a dark pathway near the opening of the cave-like entrance, where there seemed to be a garage.

"Ole Magneto brought a _whole house_ in this cave with his powers," John explained, although she had not asked him anything, nor even showed the slightest sign of interest. "And then he renovated it all fancy-like so we could train underground and all. It takes like two hours to get to people from here. I expect it didn't take you very long if Pietro brought you." He opened what appeared to be the garage door and stepped in, snapping on the light, which was old and flickered faintly.

The light revealed a large white van and a motorcycle, surrounded by several boxes.

"You talk a lot," Wanda commented.

John shrugged, bending down by the bike and picking up a helmet. "Here." He offered it to her.

"We're going on a motorcycle?" Wanda arched an eyebrow.

"I can't drive that big thing without knocking over the signs," John explained. "But you can have the helmet, because Fluffy has a huge head."

Wanda glared at the helmet, and then at him with similar distaste. "_I_ do not have a huge head."

"I never said you did, darling," John dropped the helmet down on the floor. "Oh well, we don't need it. I'm a good driver, you see."

"Of course you are," Wanda scoffed, watching him lead the bike out of the garage, feeling a slight sense of foreboding.

He mounted the bike carefully and then looked back at her, giving her a crooked smile. "Come on."

Wanda frowned, not too keen on the idea of having to ride behind him in a motorcycle. That was a little _too_ close. She carefully climbed onto the bike behind him, scooting back a little to not be so near.

"You're gonna fall off," John told her, turning his head back to make eye contact. "You have to hold onto me or you'll fall back when I drive." His eyes glittered with mischief. "Hold onto me tighter."

Wanda made sure to give him one of her most potent death looks, but very reluctantly scooted up against him, gingerly wrapping her arms around his middle, her fingers weakly intertwining with each other.

"Not strong enough," he told her, grinning.

"You shut up and drive," Wanda demanded, feeling a well of angry, embarrassed heat rise up in her face.

"As you wish, love," John faced forward again, and he began to explain the rules of what she should and should not do. Wanda scowled at his shoulder, willing him to hurry up and just... stop talking. They were all common sense rules anyway.

"Will you go already?" Wanda interrupted irritably.

John sniggered, and revved up the engine, laughing like a madman. He accelerated, and feeling herself fall back, Wanda instinctively tightened her grip around his midsection, squeezing his warm body close so she wouldn't fall. John continued to cackle with delight, speeding out onto the road, swerving in and out of the wrong lanes.

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Wanda stretched her legs out as she waited by the motorcycle, not wanting to have to make an appearance in the store. She had a distinct feeling that John had the potential to irritate her to the point of throwing things around with her mutant powers, and that was not the sort of attention she was looking for right now. And doing that sort of thing would probably anger Magneto as well, which was something that they definitely did _not_ need.

But for someone who was just supposed to be buying coffee powder, he was certainly taking a long time.

Wanda groaned with exasperation and shifted her weight to her left leg as another motorcycle pulled up into the parking space beside where she stood. She squinted into the sunlight and felt a pang of distrust as a semi-familiar man climbed off of the bike and glared at her. Wanda glared right back, noting his prodigious arm hair with distaste. She wished John would hurry up and get back here.

The familiar, hairy man suddenly stopped moving on his way to the front door of the convenience store, frowning as he sniffed the air cautiously. Wanda pursed her lips, watching him inhale the area like some sort of crazy animal, wondering if she should enter the store and drag John out; he was probably just spending Remy's money on extraneous things.

"You smell like _death_, girl," the hairy man commented, frowning suspiciously at Wanda.

Wanda blinked at him in surprise. Was he accusing her of murder or something? Some guy that she didn't even know? Who did he think he was? "I do not," she said, feeling somewhat affronted.

To Wanda's immense relief, John popped out of the store precisely at that moment, a plastic bag in his hands with definitely more than coffee inside it. "Sorry, Wanda, love," he grinned at her, completely oblivious to the furry stranger so nearby. "I found this lighter here—ain't she a beauty? Well anyway, I—"

"_Pyro_!" growled the hairy man. "You _really _smell like death! What the _hell_ is going on here?"

"Wolverine!" John exclaimed, his face visibly paling. "Ah, it's nice to see you!" He climbed onto the motorcycle. "Come on, Wanda; it's time to go!"

"So you're killing people now?" Wolverine grabbed onto the front of John's shirt to prevent him from leaving and almost knocking the bike onto its side.

"We haven't killed anyone," Wanda snapped, her hands glowing with a threat. The last thing they needed was a scene here, especially a mutant powered one. "Now let him go."

"You both smell like death," Wolverine told them, glaring.

"I shower quite frequently, thanks," John said defensively.

"A little shower won't get rid of _that_ smell." To prove his point, he gave John a highly exaggerated sniff, his nostril power whooshing strands of John's hair towards him. "It'll always be there." Wolverine scowled at Wanda, noting her hands forming hex bolts. He shoved John backwards, and John immediately started the motorcycle, as though very anxious to get away. Noticing, Wanda quickly jumped onto the bike behind him, grabbing his body tight, and John quickly backed them up.

"Till next time!" John called, as they drove off, and Wolverine stood scowling at them as they drove off.

"How do you know him?" Wanda asked promptly, as soon as she figured they were out of earshot.

"Well, first off, he's one of Sabertooth's buddies," John explained, the bag in his hand swaying with the movement of the bike. "Secondly, he came into the base one time and tried to rough me up, just to figure out where the hell Remy got off to. I'm not everyone's keeper! Why would _I_ know?"

"Hmm. Who's Sabertooth?"

"Big, hairy guy," John said. "You could also call him Fluffy. He just loves that nickname. He and Mastermind are both Acolytes, except they're antisocial. Sometimes they come out for breakfast or something. Magneto usually puts them on missions for bigger things, since they're older."

"They weren't on that paper I signed," Wanda recalled.

"I know it," John said. "They're not really all that… _pleasant_… Fluffy enjoys his killing and Mastermind enjoys his messing people up. At least, it's how they act."

"If they're anything like _that_ guy, I wouldn't blame you," Wanda murmured. "Why did he keep saying that we smelled like death?"

"Must've gone off his rocker," John shrugged. "_I_ didn't kill anyone, and I'm pretty sure I haven't been around any dead people lately, either."

"Oh," Wanda bit her bottom lip, watching the trees drift by as they drove into the farther away reaches of town, closer to where the base was hidden. She watched the surroundings in silence, allowing herself to actually rest against John's back. She remembered the fire in their house; she had been around dead people then—perhaps Wolverine had been able to detect that. And since Wanda was currently sharing a room with John, her so-called 'smell of death' _must_ have rubbed off on him; after all, she was currently leaned right up against his back to stay on this bike, and she was wearing his clothes. "Yeah," she agreed vaguely, and there was a soft rumble from the sky.

Thunder.

"Damn," John murmured. "I hate it when it rains."

Wanda thought of him in the midst of his fire, cradling the flames, laughing like a lunatic in the center of it all. "I bet," she said dryly, feeling the first spatter of a fat raindrop on her cheek. Great, now it was raining. To top off the perfect day. She rolled her eyes and very carefully rested her cheek against John's shoulder, being extremely cautious so maybe he wouldn't feel it. She could sense the vibrations of the bike's movement through his body, along with some little tune he was humming. The storm began to pour down, and the only sound was the pattering of the water on the ground.

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John gave a heavy sigh, throwing himself onto the couch in the living area as the two of them squelched back into the base, dripping everywhere. Remy and Piotr glared at him for a long moment, as if annoyed that he had ruined the peace of the room. The two of them still looked dirty and tired from training, so it was quite likely that they had _just_ gotten the chance to relax and John really was invading the space.

Wanda wrung the bottom of her shirt out, watching the water puddle on the carpet beneath her. She officially was no longer a fan of the rain. Although she had never been much of a fan beforehand. Something about the rain made her feel exceedingly lonely… almost abandoned. She scowled at them all, _daring_ them to comment on the fact that she was still dressed in John's clothes that were now sopping wet.

"Long day?" Remy asked grudgingly, not looking over the top of the newspaper he was reading.

"Oh, it was _terrible_," John said dramatically. "The motorbike broke down on the way back and me and Wanda had to push for a while and then it started to rain, and then Wanda tried to use her powers to drive it for a while, and then we hit like twenty pedestrians. Thankfully the rain water washed the gore and evidence off the motorbike."

Wanda rolled her eyes.

"Were they okay?" Piotr asked, eyes wide.

"You know he's lying," Remy scoffed, peering over his newspaper.

"Oh, I'm not," John leaned his head back and rubbed his eyes with a fist. "Right, Wanda?"

Wanda leaned against the doorway. "There was blood _every_where," she added sarcastically.

John giggled at Piotr's horrified expression, and Remy shook his head in exasperation, bringing his attention back to the newspaper in his hands. "We got the coffee, Remy," John volunteered, shaking the plastic bag in his fist. "And I got another lighter, too. And we nearly got mauled by Wolverine!"

Remy arched an eyebrow, reaching and snatching the bag to rifle through it. "Is that so?" he commented, only half paying attention.

"Yeah, that's actually the truth," Wanda nodded from the doorway, wondering if she should go change.

"What'd he want with you?" Remy smirked. "You burning something of his? You got a death wish?"

"Nah, he said we smelled," John flipped his new lighter's lid open and closed. "Like death. Of course _he _was one to talk; the bloke needed a good shower himself. Kinda like Fluffy."

"Death?" Remy gave John a look that John was oblivious to, as he was having too much fun recklessly flipping his new lighter. Remy glanced over to Piotr, who met his eyes, and then rose to his feet.

"I shall check on bike. To see if it is in good condition," Piotr declared, and disappeared from the room hurriedly, as though he did not want to be around them anymore. Wanda stared at the door after he left, wondering what had just happened. She had to be missing something.

John propped his legs up on the coffee table, briefly ceasing his habitual lighter flicking. "Huh, I wonder what's _his_ problem?"

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…_Review? _


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